The Party

I was laughing.
Someone set a black box in front of me on the bar;
His cigar set my hair on fire:
I'm a saint.
I'm the sun.
I'm a pilot light tucked in among these gas bags.

I was laughing.
Someone handed me a telegram;
Her fragrance took me back to simpler times:
Prison.
The hospital there.
The Western Union office in the basement of the violent ward.

I was laughing.
My life had been encoded on cards;
I slid them through a Gypsy's teeth and she bit me:
Bleed, girl.
Bleed hard.
That's the tarot she told me, and by the time she kissed me
I was crying.
____